Chương 70: (B2.6)

6) Merchant Ellen Ellen silently cursed her luck. After days of unseasonable cold, the weather had warmed up considerably. This was at the exact worst time for her, since she really needed the excuse to keep the hood of her cloak up as much as possible. Even with it up, she had to move very carefully or her hair would spill out and give a glimpse of its scarlet color. The people of Merriweather had likely not heard the details of who owned the dungeons land yet, but it was a reasonably sized city.

It only took one person who had heard the rumors—and she knew there were rumors—to recognize her and make her trip much more difficult. She just wanted some supplies, and wasn't ready to deal with the complications of being the owner of the newest dungeon walking around town. If it had just continued being rainy and cold for one more day, she wouldn't have looked out of place wandering around town huddled up in her cloak. The weather just didn't cooperate.

It was fortunate that she got most of her shopping done yesterday. Ellen only needed to pick up one more item, finish packing up what she bought in the room she rented, and then she could start the journey back home. She would have to sleep in the cart, but she really didn't want to stay an extra day when she had already confirmed that Uncle Anroll wasn't in town yet. The loot from the dungeon had been enough to cover all of her expenses and then some for this trip.

The adventuring party had been running the first floor enough that just the proceeds from that were enough to give her a surprising amount of coin. They were dungeon coins, so she had needed to exchange them at the Guild, but that hadn't been a problem. Now the cart was loaded up with salt, leather, cloth, and other bulk goods. New clothing, boots, shoes, and cloaks were kept in her room for the time being.

It would have all been well within her means if Ellen hadn't felt the need to rent out an entire room for herself in one of the nicer inns. Recent events had left her a little worried about communal sleeping arrangements. The real annoyance is she had needed to wait this long just for a final three shirts to be done. Ellen was already thinking she should have just brought the cloth over and let Fisher handle making shirts. They wouldn't be pretty, but that was fine for work clothes. Cheaper, too.

Ellen clutched her purchase closer and tugged her hood down a little more. At least now it was bright, and the shadow of the hood could be excused as keeping the sun out of her eyes. Perhaps she should have Scout teach her something about remaining unnoticed. She paused as she heard a ruckus further down the street, drawing her attention for a moment. She immediately forgot about it upon seeing it was just a horse getting upset. Nothing she needed to worry herself about. Just a typical minor issue in city life.

Ellen stepped onto the street to cross. The shouts rose in volume, and the clatter of hooves sounded loud on the paving stones of the street. The creak of wheels in motion, the loud whinny of a spooked horse. It all told her what was coming. So… she stepped back and glanced toward the horse galloping toward her, cart wobbling behind it. Another step back, more hurried, put her fully out of the way of the careening horse and cart. Ellen felt the impact on her ankle first.

A yank with the instep of a foot, hooking around her leg and tugging. At the same time, a firm shove of a palm pressed to her back, forcing her forward again. She had the wits to scream, time to realize what was happening as she stumbled back into the street. Her mind was already locking everything into place. The entire agitated horse had been deliberate. The shove, deliberate.

She didn't know why someone felt the need to kill her instead of trying to con her out of what they wanted, but she knew that was what had just happened. She also knew it was too late to stop it. Ellen closed her eyes. Cale Cale didn't have much time, but he knew he didn't need much. He could hear the commotion outside from the nearby window, and he knew his companions would be taking care of the target. It was a more elaborate plan than they usually took…

murder wasn't commonly a task that he and the boys accepted. But the money was good… suspiciously good. That did worry him. This narrative has been purloined without the author's approval. Report any appearances on Amazon. He knew he only had a few minutes before the innkeeper would be back. The worker down below was one of his boys—or girl, technically—so she'd cover for him if she could, but he needed to be not here soon after.

He wasn't sure what he was looking for here, only "something unusual" in her belongings, but he'd do his best. The "accident" outside might give him more time—that was why they'd timed it this way—but he couldn't rely on that. The lure of getting whatever valuables she was keeping in here was a big part of that. Cale twisted the wire just a little more, then pushed lightly on the door. The lock popped open effortlessly.

Most inns didn't even bother with locks, and even this one was more about keeping the honest ones honest. Anyone who took a few minutes of training could figure out how to bypass these. The real security was in the inn's employees knowing who was where at all times. As usual, the real trick to crime was social engineering, not the mechanical obstacles. He slid into the empty room with a hurried look about.

The shutters were cracked open slightly—enough for him to see his way around the room, especially with the secondary effect of his Skulker Perk. This shouldn't take long. Cale quickly took note of the empty bed, the simple nightstand, the table and two chairs… it was a simple room, but fancy for someone who wasn't a noble. A wealthy traveling merchant made sense. Several bags and a travel pack were nearby, propped up against the wall across from the bed. It was all neatly organized already.

"All too easy," he muttered. He knelt down next to one of the sacks, yanking it open to quickly inventory the contents. Immediately, Cale was confronted with… boots. Several pairs of boots. They all looked about the same size, but he could tell they were different makes, probably different cobblers. Who carries so many pairs of boots on a trip? Cale didn't have time to question it. He turned toward the next sack.

"Wha?" The gasp of surprise was from… behind him? His confusion bristled, as he'd been certain the room was empty, but Cale was a hardened criminal who had no qualms about eliminating a witness if the situation demanded it. Even without knowing exactly what had happened, his instincts had his dagger in his hand and his body turning about, already flicking the blade upward in a deadly steel arc toward the speaker. A confused, naked redhead. The target.

Cale was already adjusting his attack, and the stunned girl— why was she naked? —was too slow to defend against it. His blade sank into her throat at an angle, striking upward toward the brain. The girl never had a chance to do anything. She toppled backward, limp, as he yanked his blade from the bloodied corpse of the target. Then who in the bloody skies did the boys take care of? He was still thinking that question while his body moved.

The danger wasn't passed, because he saw motion, someone rising from the bed with a shocked expression. Another figure. Pale, paler than most here, just like the other. Also naked and— The confusion was there, but he was too deep in combat to think about it. Cale threw himself backward as the scarlet-haired girl lunged, elbow connecting to his stomach. Breath wheezed out of him, but he was already letting himself topple back.

His free hand grabbed firmly at her arm as he twisted himself, letting his body fall to the ground. That pivot changed everything. The two thudded to the floor with a painful impact, but Cale was the more experienced fighter. He rolled and used his larger body as leverage, pushing the girl to the floor even as she inhaled to scream. He couldn't have that. A quick plunge with his dagger, now aligned properly, slid the steel in between her ribs and into her lungs.

No scream issued from her lips, just a choking gasp and wide blue eyes. Cale's heart was hammering, his blood roaring in his ears even as he panted for breath and eased away, staring at the choking girl dying on the floor. He yanked his dagger from her body as she expired, then wiped his brow.

"Where did you come from?" he muttered. A quick glance to the side compared her to the other girl, the similar appearance even more baffling. Both of them looked like the target they'd been hired to take out. No, not similar, he realized. Even their hairstyle was the same, which was far more than similar. As he tried to calm and order his thoughts, panic spiked again. His peripheral vision caught movement once more, the shape of a third hidden person in the room. Moving toward him.

This time, things went differently. No screams or shouts, which some part of him noted in confusion. Sounding the alarm would surely be in their best interests. Instead, a blurred movement lunging at him again, instinct drawing the dagger upward to intercept. It sank into the pillow easily, only to be wrenched to the side as the pale, naked body slammed into him, finally knocking him over onto his back. His head slammed into the wooden floor with a painful explosion in the back of his skull.

Stars erupted in his vision, and he hissed out a suppressed cry of pain. Cale wasn't about to let that stop him. His good arm jabbed upward, knuckles forward in an attempt to send a spike of disabling pain into his assailant. He could no longer spare the thought to wonder where she'd come from. This was a fight for his life. Softness wrapped around his arm before it found his mark, then that same softness tightened to yank his arm back to the floor.

The rustle of a blanket filled his ears, but he was too confused to understand that the girls in the room had weaponized their sheets and covers to fight him. He was aware enough to realize a moment later that multiple hands were grappling his limbs. They were inexpert and not particularly strong, but it was more than two people pinning him down and wresting his dagger away. He might have had a fighting chance if he weren't still dealing with the nausea and dizziness from his head cracking to the floor.

Instead, he felt the softness of a pillow shoved over his face. Cale struggled to breathe. He was already mid-combat, fighting for his life, so the panting breaths were natural. Now, they did nothing. A tiny amount of air seeped in, but his lungs still burned. His body twisted and struggled, but the people holding him tightened their grip. Working in absolute silence, they immobilized him and held him there, where he couldn't remove the suffocating cloth from his face.

His eyes watered, but his thoughts were jumbled. He couldn't concentrate. A few moments later, the darkness of unconsciousness took him.